


One Knight Stand

by rileywrites, SpookyBibi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Academic Lydia, Airports, Alternate Universe, Background Stydia friendship, Brief mentions of war injuries, Crossdressing Kink, F/M, One Night Stands, Panty Kink, Soldier Jordan, background Stiles/Derek, that turn into more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileywrites/pseuds/rileywrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/pseuds/SpookyBibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan Parrish is on a miraculous three weeks leave from the army, headed to his brother's home for the holidays and some relaxing times. Lydia Martin is going home to San Francisco after a long semester at MIT, looking forward to spend some time with her mother and friends. Weather and circumstances leave them stranded in Dallas. They have eighteen hours before they can be on their way.</p>
<p>What in the world will they find to do during that time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Knight Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the title, one of us really loves puns...
> 
> (I'm not even a little bit sorry. ;p)

**December**

...

"Miss Martin, I am so sorry, but your connecting flight to San Francisco has been delayed due to weather." The clerk's drawl is as thick as her hairspray, but she's pleasant enough. "I know you want to get home for Christmas, but so is everyone else. I promise, we are doing the best we can to get you on your way."

Lydia stands tall, refusing to give in to the exhaustion taking over her body. "Ms. Hope, I understand that you cannot control the weather. Is there any way to know when this front will pass?"

"It's going to be at least nine o'clock tomorrow morning, ma'am. Again, I am so sorry. I can offer you food vouchers for in the airport--"

Lydia holds a hand up, checking her watch. "I am  _not_  staying in this airport for eighteen hours. I will find a hotel and return in the morning."

Ms. Hope frowns comically. "I don't know that much in the area will be open, what with the weather delay."

"I have my ways. Just make sure my bag transfers to the new flight, I have shoes in there worth more than your annual salary."

Lydia extends the handle of her carry-on, double checks that she has her wallet, and strides away from the counter, boots clicking on the linoleum. She retires to the Delta Sky Club lounge to plug in her phone and search for an empty hotel room within a reasonable distance.

Christmas is in two days, she doesn't have time for this bullshit.

…

Jordan holds his palms under the running water and splashes some on his face. "And here you thought they would have better organisation than the army..." he says with a sigh as he reaches for the paper towels.

"What was that?"

He turns to the guy in the wrinkled suit on his left and turns on the smile. "Nothing, nothing. Jet lag."

"Gotcha."

He nods and picks up his worn bag from the counter on his way out. His smile fades away as he walks towards the lounge room.

A three-weeks leave, one spent coming back and readjusting, one spent in the whirlwind of his family house and what's left? A week at his brother's place, actually hanging out and having fun, now cut short by a stupid plane that can't pass inspection and an airline incapable of rebooking him before the next day.

"Come on, stay positive. You've seen worse," he whispers under his breath. He takes a deep breath, shakes off the irritation tickling the back of his neck and crashes into the nearest chair of the lounge. At least it's comfortable and there's a cute redhead on his left.

"What to do now?" he mumbles, wiping his damp brow.

…

"What do you  _mean_  there aren't any rooms available? I'm a platinum member!"

_"I understand, Miss Martin, but even platinum members are restricted by fire codes. I am sorry."_

Lydia hangs up abruptly and drops the phone on the arm of the chair. What's the point of all these Hilton points if she can't get a fucking room?

"I'm going to be stuck in this airport forever," she mumbles, dropping her head to her hands. "Forever!"

"Could be worse," Jordan chimes in. He glances up from his phone, sees only a cascade of red curls and shrugs. "I have the choice between bankruptcy with the Drake Hotel or... " He checks the name again. "The O'Sullivan Motel. Yeah should have called it the Bates Motel, from the looks of it."

He pats the armrest. "You and me will spend a lot of time together, I think."

Lydia looks up to find a model sitting in the seat beside her. Upon a moment's survey, she re-assigns him as either law enforcement or military. They hold themselves differently. Either way, he's a beautiful specimen of a man.

"Then we might as well get to know each other." She fluffs her curls and extends a hand. "Lydia Martin."

"What? Oh," Jordan's cheeks heat up. "I was talking to the ch- Never mind." His eyes travel down on the way to avoid more embarrassment. This proves to be an educational look.  _She's petite and gorgeous, big smart eyes and killer legs, shut up about the chair._ "Jordan, Jordan Parrish." He clams up before he adds the lieutenant bit. "You got stuck here too?"

"Something about severe storms between here and San Fran. They can't put me in the air until tomorrow morning at the earliest." Lydia sinks back into the chair, perfect posture going to rot as she contemplates an evening in the airport. "I'm not looking forward to this evening."

"I bet you had more exciting plans," Jordan says softly. She exudes glamour, even slumped in an armchair. He nudges his worn backpack behind his seat with his foot, suddenly embarrassed. He shrugs and nervously starts to fiddle with his phone. "I was looking forward to just relax at my brother's place. Now I have to wait tomorrow afternoon for the next flight to Spokane, can't afford to book something else."

_Why did you say that? Change the subject._

"Want a drink? Might help your outlook on things?" He risks a little smile, hopes it works. He's been told it's adorable.

"A drink would be lovely." Lydia pulls out her wallet and grabs her Delta card. "The Delta bar should be right here close. I'm a member, it will make things faster."

"Great," Jordan says, gesturing for her to lead the way. His spirits are quickly picking up, her swift and positive response helping greatly.

That and she has a great gait, he notices. He swings his back on his shoulder and starts walking, just a few steps behind her. A beautiful view, a drink, maybe two. Things are looking up.

…

"What can I get you, ma'am?"

"Vodka soda for me, and whatever this gentleman wants." Lydia perches on one of the few available bar stools and hands him her card. "Would it be possible to start a tab?"

The bartender, a pretty brunette with warm brown eyes, smiles. "Of course, ma'am, so long as you won't miss your flight."

"I'm not going anywhere for quite a while."

The bartender nods in sympathy and reaches for the vodka behind him."For you sir?"

"Oh," Jordan tears his eyes away from Lydia's profile (this girl is stunning from every angle, Jesus) and thinks for a second. "Just a Budweiser, thanks." He's not running on that much sleep, and the evening is young, better keep it light. "Are you...Are you going back home for the holidays?" he asks after they've received their drinks and a plate of assorted nuts.

"I am. I grew up in San Francisco, and my mom is staying home for Christmas this year." Lydia doesn't mention the cabin in Aspen, he doesn't seem like the type to care. "You?"

"I did the family reunion thing back in Maine, now I'm going to my brother's place for a few days, visit him as well while I'm stateside. He lives in Spokane."As far away from the rest of the Parrish clan as possible, but that's what's best for Tristan.

"That sounds nice." Lydia sips her drink, arches an eyebrow. "Stateside?” Military, then. Deployed.

Jordan nods, bottle at his lips. "Yeah, I've spent most of the past five years overseas," he says after swallowing a long sip. "Iraq, now Afghanistan, so not your best vacation spots or most pleasant places but..."He shrugs, picks at the label of his beer. "It's the life of a soldier, and I still get to come home once in a while. Maybe for longer soon, if the draw-down plan keeps on."

"It's a noble pursuit," Lydia says softly. "I have a friend in the navy. She's stationed on a ship in the Gulf right now." Allison was never one to half-ass anything.

"That's admirable... It's tough out there and the navy's a whole other level."His job isn't by easy any means easy but he's heard stories about the life at sea."You must be proud of her."

"I couldn't be more proud. She was recently promoted to petty officer, first class." Lydia smiles, thinking about the Skype call when Allison told her. "She was the first of her class to get that far."

"Awesome. And you, what do you do?" He glances at her dress. "Maybe it's a superficial opinion but you don't look like the army type."

"I'm a first year grad student at MIT." Lydia gestures for another drink from the bartender. "Mathematics."

"Nice." _Brains and beauty, Jordan don't let this one slip away._ "Specialty?" he asks with a bigger smile.

"Applied mathematics. Making the world better, instead of just sitting in a room and thinking." Lydia smiles, leaning in. "Though I do have a proof I'm working on that will be world-changing if it works."

"First-year student, already conquering the world. Interesting..." Jordan downs his beer, pushes the empty bottle away and scoots his bar stool closer. "Care to share about that theory? I'm not the biggest math geek but I can follow enough to get it, maybe."

Lydia launches into the short version of her theory, which still takes her half an hour and some napkin scribbling to get through. "Thoughts?"

Jordan stares at the neat writing, that still looks like scripture to him. He may have overestimated his comprehension skills. "Very impressive but I feel like I just had a lecture from Good Will Hunting." He takes a swift swig of his second beer. "You're much more beautiful than him though."

Lydia warms at his compliment. "Thank you, I would hope so." Her stomach rumbles. "God, I'm hungry." It takes her no time to extend the invitation. "Would you like to go to dinner somewhere outside of this godforsaken airport?"

"I've been living off airport food for a while. Yes, I'd love to."He slides off his seat and pals his pocket for his wallet. "Anyplace that's simple,"  _aka cheap_ , "will do. I'm not very familiar with this area but we could find someplace still open fairly easily, I think."

"There's a mom and pop 24-hour dinner just down Carter Drive," the bartender nicely provides, handing them the check. "Decent food, friendly," he winks, "atmosphere."

Lydia signs the check, adding an extra nice tip for the poor bartender working through the scheduling clusterfuck. "A diner sounds lovely." She tucks her wallet back into her purse, pulls on her coat, and takes hold of her carry-on. "I'll follow you."

 

After a quick search on his phone, Jordan finds out that the diner is less than a mile away. But her heels are quite high. "Cab? Yes, a cab," he says with a nod.

There are a long line of them waiting in front of the airport and he waves one over, opening the door as soon as it parks. "After you," he says with a smile.

Lydia slides in gracefully, thankful for the practice back in Boston. "Thank you, kind sir." He really is charming, if a little awkward around the edges.

Jordan gives the address to the driver and slides in, careful to leave enough room between them by dumping his back on the seat. He sits back with a sigh, extends his legs under the front seat. "Getting out of there was a great idea. I've gotten used to be in transit but it's still..." He shakes his head. "Stuffy and surreal. It's great to be out in the real world."

"I suppose a snow-covered Dallas counts as the real world. I've never been out of this airport while in the area." Lydia crosses her legs delicately, infinitely grateful for the invention of lined leggings.

"Snow's great, it's a nice change of scenery," he says. He's a load of it at his parents' place but after a year of sand and dirt he can't get enough of it. "I don't even mind the cold."

"After four and a half years in Boston I've gotten used to it," Lydia says. "But I still can't say I like it."

"You need to grow up with it, and have siblings, cousins, or a bunch of friends to play outside to love it," Jordan says confidently. "I'm guessing you had neither of those."

"I grew up in San Francisco. What snow we got wasn't playable." Not to mention no siblings or cousins. Lydia bats her eyelashes. "Are you offering to teach me to play in the snow, Jordan?"

Jordan smirks. It's a way to control his blushing, those eyes are damn effective and she knows it. “Not in those shoes of yours. But we'll see how the evening goes."

 

The delays, cancellations and frustrations are a thing of the past, by now they’re both smiling.They get to the diner and Lydia pays the ridiculous fare. She silences Jordan's argument with a single look, hooking her arm through his."I'll let you pay for dinner, how about that?" 

Jordan glances down at the small arm looped with his. "Works for me."He can be gallant when she wants to, whatever makes her smile like that.

The diner is a tiny, linoleum-and-vinyl cliche, but the bartender was right-- it is nice. They get a booth near the back, warm and private.

"This is nice," Lydia says as she peruses the menu. "I haven't been in a real diner in ages."

"It's my go-to kind of restaurant when I'm back. I don't have to tell you they are rare in the Middle East, but they're a staple on the East Coast and I miss them."He takes a look at the familiar items. They have chicken and waffles, fantastic."Not your healthiest or most refined food but it's always good."

Lydia doesn't trust a diner in Texas to do a Philly properly, so she decides to go with the meatloaf dinner. "There's a diner near campus that I ate at a lot as an undergrad. My-- a friend of mine played lacrosse at Boston College, and we would meet up there."

After she and Jackson broke up, Lydia avoided the diner and the memories attached to it.

"It's good for refueling after a game, that's for sure." He closes his menu as the waitress approaches, gloriously cliché with her obnoxious way of chewing gum.

"What can I get ya?"

They order, hiding their smile the best they can and she walks away with a nod, scribbling away on her pad.

"This... friend of yours, still a friend?" he asks cautiously.

"Nope. We parted ways when we realized we weren't looking for the same things." Lydia Martin is no trophy wife.

"I'm sorry." He tilts his head, sees no real sorrow on Lydia's face. "Not really sorry."

Lydia bumps her foot against his. "Don't be. I'm not." Depending on how things go tonight, she might be sleeping with a hot soldier. No, she's not sorry.

"Awesome," Jordan whispers, bumping back carefully.She's unattached, he's been single for... Way too long. She's gorgeous and smart and checking him out. Yeah, awesome. "So," he drawls after several minutes of silent smiles and footsies, and after the waitress drops their plates on the table. "What are your holiday plans, besides family?"

"I have plans to see friends for New Year's, but that's about it. Boring, I know."

"That's what this time of year is for, it's not boring."

"I suppose you're right." Lydia sips her water and nudges his foot. "What about you?"

"Mostly just hanging out with my brother. He... My family's still in Maine but he moved to Washington State. I split my time between them when I'm in the country." He pours more syrup on his plate. "It's not ideal but family never is. At least I have a good time with both, usually."

"There's something to be said for that. My mom and I are always just barely this side of awkward," she says. And that only happened recently. "And I haven't seen my dad since I graduated high school."

"That sucks, I'm sorry. I mean, my brother hasn't talked to my parents since he was sixteen, I kind of know the weight it can create." He pokes at his food, slides his foot between hers, slowly. "We have quite the topics, for people meeting in an airport a couple of hours ago. But you know they say it's easier to talk about that stuff with strangers."

"I don't feel like you're a stranger," Lydia says nonchalantly, stabbing another bite of her meatloaf. "Kindred spirits or something."

"The bomb squad leader and the model-slash-math prodigy, a good fit? Nobody would have guessed it."

Lydia chuckles. "I am  _not_ a model. But thank you anyway." She bumps his ankle. "I thought you were a model when I first saw you."

"Okay I work out and this job keeps me in shape but not that good of a shape. And also this baby face? No, not model material. Plus I got some scars that make up can't cover. _You_ could be one though. You've got the legs." And maybe it's her compliment, or the way she looks at him but something makes him a little more daring and he reaches to tuck a strand of her behind her ear. "And mesmerizing eyes," he adds in a softer tone.

Lydia narrows her eyes at him for a moment, trying to judge his... intent? Motive? He seems genuine, and Lydia has seen no reason not to trust this man-- this soldier. "Mesmerizing, hm?" Lydia smiles coyly. "Have I gotten you under my spell?"

Jordan takes his hand away, slowly, and details her face. "Maybe."She's got a different smile on now, enigmatic. He can't look away. "Yeah, maybe."  _Definitely_. "Are you a witch?"

"Oh, definitely." Lydia's tongue flicks out to dampen her lips unconsciously. "And I love to cast my thrall over unsuspecting men."

Jordan sucks in a breath. "I'm always told I'm too trusting and naive. I should have known it was too good to be true, or natural." He pushes his plate aside and leans forward, a small smile lightening up his words. "You're gonna make me do your bidding, or make me jump through hoops? Figuratively and literally?"

"I have a task for you, sir." Her lips curve into a smirk. "One task that could mean treasures beyond belief should you complete it."

Jordan feels any and all resolve leave his body. He should have known, the tiny ones are dangerous. But they’re also his weakness. "Name the task and the reward, and see it done," he replies.

"Find me a hotel room," Lydia commands, "and you shall have the honor of joining me in it."

Jordan swallows the surprise down, with difficulty. She doesn't beat around the bush, and what was just flirting suddenly becomes a very real proposition."I..." He coughs and recuperates with a smile. “It shall be done."

_You bet it will._

He flags the waitress, who drags her feet on her way, infuriatingly so. Fishing out his wallet, he asks her what they owe and hastily counts the money to cover the bill and a minimal tip.

"Give me... " He slides out of the booth and exchanges the wallet for his phone. "Give me like two minutes," he whispers before starting to frantically search through the tabs he had opened with the possibilities he found earlier.

_Calm down._

_Have you seen her?_

_... Good point._

Lydia double-checks all of her belongings and stands, grabbing his bag. It would be awful for him to lose it in his rush. "Don't worry, sweetie, I have all night." He's flustered, the adorable man, surprised even.

Lydia Martin gets what she wants, and she wants Jordan Parrish.

He glances away from the screen, sees his bag in her hand and smiles apologetically. "I... Thank you, I'm sorry, I'll take this," he mumbles, sliding his hand in the handle. Theirs hands brush and just that is enough to bring a touch of heat to his cheeks. She's cool and collected and he's already hot and bothered. Great.

"Hum... Drake Hotel?" he offers after a heavy second of silent staring. "It's on the pricey side, they only have the... well the honeymoon suite free but..." He breathes in, once, twice. "Your orders were not specific." A tentative smile. "Does it fulfill your wish?"

"It's a hotel room, it's in the city, the odds of my dying in the room are slim to none-- I'd say my wish has been fulfilled." Lydia leans in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you, Jordan."

"You're welcome," he murmurs, ducking his head down.He hears a pop behind them and turns his head to see the waitress chewing her gum with enthusiasm, and a knowing smirk on her face. He blushes harder. "Let's go then," he says. His hand goes to the small of her back and he lets her take the first steps towards the door.

 

Lydia hails a taxi, shivering at the cold wind blowing down a snow-covered street. She tucks herself into Jordan's side until the taxi stops, too cold to think about anything else. She slides in, tucking her bag at her feet, and waits for Jordan to get in.

"The Drake, please." 

"Yes ma'am."

This time Jordan foregoes the whole "bag as a partition" thing and shoves it on the ground.The taxi ride starts off silent, and calm (on the outside on Jordan's side). He doesn't look too much her way, but he does risk grabbing her hand after a couple of minutes.

"They're cold," he explains. He covers her tiny and icy fingers in both his hands, rubs each one of them gently.

"I left my gloves in Boston," Lydia says softly. "I didn't think I'd be out in the cold much once I left." She smiles down at their hands, her smooth ones in his calloused ones. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

"Not a problem, not a problem at all," he says.He doesn't stop until they reach the hotel. Actually, even there he keeps their fingers tangled. Can't be helped, she's letting him and they fit so easily.

 

"Hi, welcome to the Drake Hotel, how can I assist you?" the friendly receptionist greets them.

"Hi. Hum, we'd like a room, for tonight?"

She smiles and nods, all professional courtesy. "Of course, please let me check what we have... Mm, I'm afraid the only room available is the honeymoon suite..." She glances at them. "I'm assuming it could be suitable?"

Lydia gives the woman behind the desk her best smile and says, "that would be just perfect, thank you.” She books the room on her credit card before Jordan can even think of saying anything.

"Room service is available until midnight, the pool and gym close at ten, and the concierge will be here until eight. Enjoy your stay at the Drake, Mr and Mrs Martin, and ring if you need anything."

"Thank you," Jordan says, and he secures his grip on Lydia's hand as they walk towards the elevator.It takes forever to arrive, leaves him some time to think, for a question or two to form in his head. "You... You like to be in charge, don't you?" he whispers into her ear.

"I'm on top of my world," Lydia says with a shrug. "I like it here." She bites her lip and looks up at him through her lashes. "Do you like it when I'm in charge?"

He pushes down the groan rising at the back of his throat."Normally I lead. Keep making those eyes at me and I might learn to like the other way around."

She's dangerously desirable and he feels like giving her free rein will only make it worse. Well, better, actually. Besides, he deals with danger every day of his life, this is just another type of it.

He's so pretty when he's flustered. Lydia enjoys watching his flush spread from his cheeks to his neck and ears. "There's nothing wrong with giving up control for a while." Lydia runs the fingers of her free hand up and down his forearm. "It can even be relaxing."

The elevator arrives, and they step in.

"I... It's not something I do often, it's all. Giving up control I mean," he adds with a smile. _That other thing too, it's been a while._ He keeps his eyes on the flashing number over the doors. He's all too aware of Lydia right next to him, her soft, teasing and very purposeful touch. He'll keep _some_  self-control, at least.

The flush is spreading down past his collar the closer they get to their floor. Lydia can't wait to see how far it reaches. "Thank you for this evening, Jordan." Lydia smiles softly. "I much prefer your company to that of the airport staff."

"I like to think you wouldn't have invited a steward or a security guy to your room."He's kind of stupidly pleased to have her by his side, smiling at him like that. He knows his expression must match hers. "You're... I didn't expect to find someone like you during this layover. Someone to make it.... Unexpectedly pleasant."

_That's quite the euphemism, Jordan. You have a goddess with you, and the night is just starting._

 

There's a comfortable silence as she unlocks the door. They step inside, take off coats and shoes and the likes and stand in the entrance still silent, still staring at each other with tiny smiles on.

Now what? Should she be ladylike and let him make the first move?

Ah, fuck it.

Lydia throws herself at him, arms going around his neck as she kisses him soundly. Ladylike is overrated.

Still unprepared, despite the signs, Jordan's back meets the wall under the force of her pouncing on him. Air is pushed out of his lungs but Jordan Parrish is nothing if not a man quick on his feet and he recuperates in a flash, arms winding around her minuscule waist and returning the kiss, fully.

In a matter of seconds he's back in the game. Exploring her mouth with needy lips, teasing with tiny flicks of the tongue. He hasn't forgotten her preference though and lets her decide when it's time to take it further.

Lydia bites at Jordan's bottom lip until he opens his mouth and she can deepen the kiss. _It's been so long..._ He's strong, muscular, steady even under her attack. And damn is he a good kisser.

Jordan muffles a groan when her tongue slips inside his mouth, demanding and confident, and manages to give back what she wants. His tongue curls around hers, tasting her carefully, a contrast with the hurried and passionate way their lips are meeting. His hands slip down, just over her ass. If she wasn't already plastered against his chest he would pull her to him, but there is already no space left between them.

"I think," he breathes out, his mouth leaving Lydia's with regret, "we should..." he goes back for more, addicted, "move this to a more comfortable spot." He gets the word out fast, so he can kiss her again. Not that it would allow her to reply, but he can't help himself.

Lydia pulls away from him, dropping to the floor and backing toward the huge four-poster bed. "You have the best ideas." She hooks her finger in his belt loop and pulls him along with her.

"Love the way you follow them through," Jordan replies. He falls easily into step with her, smooth strides until they reach the bed. His hand that was idly resting on her hips moves to the small of her back and he slowly dips her onto the duvet. He pauses as he stretches back up, mesmerized once again. Fiery red hair splayed on crisp white bedspread. A striking picture.

He bites his lip and shrugs off his shirt in a hurry. "You're so beautiful, it's unbelievable," he whispers, finally getting the garment off.

Lydia takes a moment to wriggle out of her leggings, something she has yet to figure out how to do without looking like an idiot. Fleece-lined leggings, while warm, cling like a bitch. Once the dratted garment is on the floor, leaving her in dress and undergarments, Lydia admires the now-shirtless Jordan.

God bless America.

"I could get used to this whole soldier thing," she says, hands roaming over muscular shoulders and defined pecs. Careful fingers brush over the scars she finds reverently. "You're stunning."

He shivers, pleasantly, under her delicate touch and smiles. "Are we stumbling onto a new kink of yours, miss Martin?" He steps closer, one knee on the edge of the bed, and towers over her. "Should I warn my regiment about a redhead that likes to charm soldiers and boss them all the way to bed?" he asks, biting back his grin. His hand trails up her leg, doesn't go under the skirt,  _not yet_ , and dances on her side, still going up until he cups her cheek. "Or is it just a _tonight_ thing?" His thumb grazes her bottom lip, so beautifully reddened and plumped up by their kissing.

"I think it's a _you_ thing," Lydia purrs, licking the tip of his thumb. "Definitely a _tonight_ thing, but mostly a _you_ thing." She's starting to burn, low and hot and perfect, and she wants more. "Get down here, soldier, so I can kiss you properly."

He puts a tiny bit more pressure on her lip, delighted with the slight moan she lets out. "Your wish, my command," he whispers, pulling his hand away. No more teasing. He climbs on the bed and straddles her thigh, diving for another kiss without further ado.

Lydia kisses him with everything she has, holding him impossibly close and arching into it with each breath. Their lips and tongue tangle in the best possible way, sharing air and energy and the occasional chuckle as they bump together oddly. "The best ideas," she breathes, raking her hands down the broad planes of his back to grab his ass and haul him closer.

Dizzy, Jordan has to pull away but she tastes so good and moves so well, it’s getting too much. He can't go very far, doesn't want to either. He settles for tasting her neck, little nips, enough to tease and please but not to mark. It takes focus to do so, and he dedicates his whole attention to it, sighing and licking and breathing her in. Anything to make him forget the almost painful erection he's now sporting, and how she grinds against it.

Until he can't ignore it anymore and, wrapping his arms around her frame, he swiftly switches their position. "How do you like this idea?" he says in a low tone, pushing her cascading hair from her face.

Lydia settles so that his erection hits her just right and moans like a whore. "Best. Idea. Ever." She takes a moment to pull her sweater-dress up over her head and toss it to the floor, leaving her in bra and panties. "You feel so amazing." She leans down to kiss him, groaning as she rocks her hips across him. "So fucking amazing."

He smiles into the kiss. "Getting the raunchy girl out of you, am I?" Jordan teases, breathless, never letting go of her hips. Those hips that are driving him crazy, one thrust at the time.He kisses her fiercely, led on by her enthusiasm. "I can make it more amazing," he says, planting one more kiss on her lips before moving back to her neck, biting on her earlobe on the way. He wills his hands away from Lydia's hips, makes them caress the silky surface of her back instead.

The bra proves to be no obstacle and is unclasped after the first try. It's been a while but he still got it.

Not only is Jordan built like a god, he finds her weak points within moments. Lydia gasps as he thumbs her nipples, a direct line to her throbbing clit. "More, c'mon." She fists a hand in his hair, holding him close.

Jordan tears his eyes away from her (perfect, so perfect, like her everything) breasts and looks up, only to find her cheeks bright red and her mouth agape. He risks a private smile. Duly noted. The touch gets more insistent, he amps it to tweaking, gently, and pinching the hardening nipples with care but also purpose. "More you said..." he murmurs into her throat. He licks up a trail, from her quivering chin to the hollow of her throat, pausing to feel her fast heartbeat against his tongue. "Again, you ask..." He obeys, continuing his path until he catches a nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Jordan,  _fuck._ " Lydia is ablaze, lit on fire by this beautiful man and his talented mouth. She grips his biceps and grinds like it's going out of style. "More, dammit."

The rasp of his jeans on her thighs is perfect and not enough and too much all at the same time, the zipper pressing her clit through her panties. A woman possessed, she just keeps moving, arching into his touch.

Jordan lets a puffy, reddened, almost abused nipple slip out of his mouth and grins. "So demanding..." he chuckles, peppering kisses across her breasts. His laughter dies in his throat when she rocks _just right_ , sending sparks up from his dick to the top of his spine.

"Fuck." If he doesn't move she's going to make him come in his pants and it's too soon. He has other plans. "Fine, I'll give you more," he growls. A calculated thrust sends Lydia back on the bed and he scoots off, unfastening his pants and kicking them off clumsily.

He slithers back to her, stops midway. It takes willpower, the desire to just plaster his whole body against hers, feel every inch of skin, is huge to control. But she wants more. He hooks his finger in her lace panties, and slides them off her legs. Quickly, she seems as impatient as he is.

The break gives Lydia a moment to breathe, to reassess. "There are condoms in my bag." She runs her hands up and down her thighs, struggling not to just rub her clit until she comes. "Get one-- or two or three-- and get your fine ass over here."

He stills, panties falling off her ankles into his hands. _Thank God_. He didn't bring any, never expecting to hook up when all of his time was supposed to be spent drinking beers and watching TV with his brother.

The undergarment falls to the floor, abandoned and he searches through her bag until his fingers wrap around the foil package. He toys with it for a second, smirking. He stretches back up and, thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, gets fully undressed on his way back to the bed.

"Found them." He drops the condom on the bedspread, within reach. "But I'm not done." He starts a new journey with his tongue, from her ticklish (so he discovers) ankle up to her thighs. "You wanted more?" he asks, mouth an inch from her mound. "More of this?" His tongue darts out and flicks over her clit.

Lydia curses and fists his hair, holding him where she wants him. "Fuck yes, please." Her voice cracks, and she presses her hips up toward her face. "More, please, Jordan."

Now a conditioned reflex, he complies and goes back to work. His tongue explores her folds, tastes every inch and settles on her clit for the longest time, until she demands more, again. He gives her all, everything she asks for, whether it’s with more pleas or just her breathing coming out in shorter gasps. There’s something incredibly... liberating, in letting her dictate the rhythm and actions. The only control he keeps is his hands grasping her hips, fingers splayed on her ass. Just to keep her from trashing too hard against his face. But what’s just as empowering and pleasurable is her response, and he finds himself getting painfully hard just when he starts to feel her pulse under his touch.

Her orgasm takes her by surprise, Jordan's talented tongue and skill for taking directions driving her over the edge before she knows what's happening. She grips his hair and holds him close as she stiffens. When her mind comes back from the outer atmosphere, Lydia stares down at Jordan with awe and a little surprise.

"Get that fine ass up here and get in me," she commands, pulling at his shoulders. "God, Jordan, please." In her haste, and with frantic pulling, she almost makes him topple on her, only a hand on the bed at the last second prevents the accident. Jordan's other hand is busy grasping around for the condom.

"Take a breath," he whispers in her ear. "We have all night." One kiss and he's pulling away to sit on his heels and tear the package open. He has to bite back a moan when putting the condom on, the basic pressure already a lot to handle. Okay given how turned on he is he will not last that long but... He has good refractory period stats.

He kisses down her neck as he lays over her, one hand gliding gently down her side, shifting her in place. Sliding home feels like a dream, a tight, burning, perfect dream. "Fuck," the sensation tearing the swear from his throat. "Fuck..."

It has been too long since Lydia indulged in a hook-up. She's been busy with her studies, but she won't make the same mistake again. Jordan was a good choice to break the streak. "Fuck, Jordan, Christ." Lydia captures his lips in a kiss, tilting her hips to take him impossibly deeper.

_God, Christ, the Holy Trinity, all of it._ Best moment of his leave, right now. Not his nicest thought but fuck... She's a wonder, receptive, a snake all around him. He fights off his already impending orgasm, long enough to find a pace between kissing her breathless and thrusting in sync with her moves. "Jesus you're amazing," he pants into her neck. His hand move down her arched back to go over her ass and wrap her legs more tightly around his hips.

"You're the amazing one," Lydia manages between pants and moans, holding on to him for dear life. He's the perfect fit, not too small but not so big he hurts, and he makes the most of every inch he was given. She rakes her nails down his back, biting at his bottom lip.

He feels a fiery trail on his back, an eager mouth devouring his and that nearly sends him over the edge. He's close though, so he makes the best of the few minutes (seconds) he has left to move away from her lips and resume kissing and nipping at her breasts.  _I know her weak spot now._

"You're perfect, so perfect," he moans between kisses. That's all he manages before his orgasm, blinding, overwhelming, takes over his mind and leaves him breathless.

_He's beautiful when he comes..._ Jordan stutterfucks her through his orgasm, and it only takes one brutal twist of her nipple to send Lydia crashing over the edge again. Her mind goes completely blank for the first time in months, pleasure taking control of her completely.

Jordan goes limp, brain refusing to control his limbs and he falls on top of Lydia. Once there, he only manages to wrap arms like noodles around her frame, fingers stroking her face softly. _Too long. It's been too long. Or maybe she's just too good._ "Sorry," he mumbles, failing to move.

Lydia just gives him a sleepy, sated smile. "I don't mind," she murmurs. "You're warm." And solid. And dependable. And hot as hell, how is this man even real? She traces idle fingertips over his back, his arm. "Where are all the scars from?" she asks quietly, noticing one especially nasty one on his shoulder. "If you are comfortable telling me, of course-- or allowed to."

The military is weird about secrets. Lydia learned that from Allison.

Jordan stiffens then relaxes, in the span of a second, under her exploration. It's more like a soothing caress. "This one is the most recent," he murmurs, his face turning to hide in her neck. "We thought we had time to disarm the device, we miscalculated. I got most of the windshield of the Jeep sprayed on that arm." Her warmth, surrounding him, doesn't remind him of the hellish burn that washed over him then. Instead, it calms his heartbeat and comforts his mind. Strange, but nice.

"I'm glad you're okay," Lydia breathes, noting the placement of each scar she finds. "You're a brave man, Jordan. Far braver than I."

"You do it on instinct, you don't think. I'm not sure it's that brave." He smiles into her neck, presses a lazy kiss on the damp skin. "You're fierce yourself."

"I have my moments." Lydia runs her fingers through his hair, enjoying the moment while it lasts.

"That was a good one from you, a good moment, right now. A fantastic one," Jordan sighs. After a minute of silent cuddling, he can start to feel the real world sink in again, with its stickiness. "Gotta move, just a sec," he sighs, rolling off her and discarding the condom in as few moves as possible. She's too sweet to hold in his arms for him to stay away for long.

Lydia pushes the duvet back so she can slide under, holding it up for Jordan when he returns. "This has turned out to be the best weather delay ever," she says with a smile. 

"Best flight cancellation," Jordan agrees, gathering her in his arms.Legs tangled, breaths mingling, it's kind of perfect. No, it _is_ perfect.

It's been a long day, and Jordan has fucked her straight to exhaustion. "M'gonna sleep," she murmurs, eyelids dropping. "Don't go anywhere, 'kay?"

"Too cold outside," Jordan mumbles. Eyes closed, he kisses her forehead, her cute nose, her full lips, once, twice, then tucks her head in the crook of his neck. She is so warm and soft in his arms, he falls asleep in an instant, perfectly content and comfortable.

_How could I ever want to be anywhere but here?_

 

Lydia wakes to her phone ringing at ass o'clock in the morning. She fumbles to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ms. Martin, this is Hannah with Delta Airlines. I wanted to let you know that your flight to San Francisco will fly out at noon."

"Great, thank you. I'll see you then."

Lydia crawls back into bed and tucks herself against Jordan's chest. The world can wait a while longer.

Jordan's eyes crack open and he sees nothing but bright red curls on his chest. Uh. So it wasn't a dream. "Good morning, goddess," he croaks out.

He's so fucking cute. "Mm, good morning." Lydia stretches a little with a content sigh. "Sleep well?"

"Like a dream," Jordan replies, voice still raspy. "You wore me out so well, and..." he shrugs, all hazy and happy. "I don't know, you fit in my arms.” That might be a little too much too soon but it’s too late to take it back. "Awesome sleeping partner," he says casually.

So  _fucking cute. Don't get attached,_  Lydia chastises herself mentally. "I'm also a great shower partner," she purrs, drawing nonsense along his chest with her fingernail.

"Well, I'm sure I will need directions while I'm in there too..."He kisses the top of her head and looks sideways to the alarm clock by the bed. "And I have some time before my flight, you know, in case we get sidetracked."

"Believe me, we'll get sidetracked." Lydia slides out of bed and struts to the bathroom, hips swaying.

If he didn't get a good look yesterday, now he's getting an eyeful and it's glorious. He scrambles out of bed, almost trips on the sheets but makes it to the bathroom in one piece. He can't be blamed for his haste, he only has a few hours left. Same reason he's not ashamed of his erection, that is not just the result of the early hour. 

 

The shower is glorious, big enough for two with water pressure Lydia would kill for. (Then again, this is the honeymoon suite. Lydia should have expected the amazing shower.) She steps in and under the stream with a moan. The water pounds away at her back, working out the knots.

It's a beautiful, beautiful sight that wakes Jordan completely. Lydia, turned away from him, hot water raining down on her, reddening her skin and making it glisten.He holds his breath, steps in behind her, quietly. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to, or need to, his wandering hands and his mouth mapping her nape and her shoulders say a lot.

"This hotel included everything," Lydia muses, acting unaffected. "Even a shower partner." She shifts back enough to feel him hard against her back. "A large one at that."

Jordan hums in agreement, but he's too distracted to really reply.His hands feel at home in the curve of her hips, squeezing gently, keeping her close as he grinds without thought.  _It's scary, how easily she fits in your arms_. He pushes that particular thought away with more thorough kisses, and hands moving higher to cup her breasts.

Lydia arches into his hands, head landing on his shoulder. Damn him for figuring out her weak spot so quickly.

_I could get used to this._

_Don't._

He kneads her supple flesh gently, finds it quickly responding to his attentions. "No need to tell me what to do after all," he whispers, grinning when he can tweak stiff nipples with his fingers. "I think I figured you out." He can play her like an instrument long mastered, even, if the moans she lets out are any indication.

"I could do this forever," he sighs, pushing against her with a moan if his own. He doesn't register what he said, too lost in his handiwork.

_Forever?_ Lost in the pleasure of her breasts getting the attention they deserve, Lydia shoves the comment to the back of her mind for further study at a later date. She reaches back to stroke Jordan's dick, committing to memory what drives him crazy.

She might have tiny hands but they are skilled and have a maddening touch. "Fuck," he hisses after a particularly effective twist of her wrist . His hips buck in sync with her strokes, too fast. He swiftly turns her around before she causes too much damage (pleasure) too soon.

Immediately his hands return to play with her breasts. "You..." he starts but the words die in his throat when he looks into her eyes. She seems to be skilled at taking his breath away without doing anything at all too.

Lydia pulls him down so she can kiss him properly. "I? I what, soldier?" She strokes him slowly and surely, twisting her hand over his head on the upstroke.

“You…” He’s lost it again, somewhere between a swipe of her thumb or one of her tongue in his mouth. He just rests his forehead against hers, trying to catch a breath that doesn’t want to come back and to pick up his thoughts. But there is just no thinking possible when she’s got just the right grip on him so he gives up, gives in. His hands leave her body, glue themselves to the tiled wall, to maintain his fragile balance and he rocks forward, slowly.

“Witch, witch, “ is all that escapes his lips, barely audible in the ruckus of the water falling on them.

"C'mon, Jordan." Lydia kisses the long stretch of his neck, contemplates leaving her mark. "I want to watch you fall apart for me."

She does get to watch him, far sooner than he would have liked it. But she’s relentless, incredibly attuned to his gasps and thrusts, and he’s powerless, without resolve, when it comes to her. He comes with a loud grunt, shuddering so hard his feet almost slip.

“Damn,” he breathes out. His hand shifts on the wall, saves the situation in extremis. “You...” Nope, still nothing. He chuckles and dips his head down to kiss her, more sweetly than intended.

Something in Lydia's chest flutters when Jordan kisses her, and she can't help but kiss back softly. But arousal waits for no woman, and the heat takes over from the fluttering. She sticks her hand in the shower stream to rinse off before bringing it between her legs.

Jordan pushes the heavy, soaked strands of her hair away from her face with one hand, kisses her long and hard. "Your turn," he murmurs against her lips, his free hand finding its way between them to join hers.

Their fingers tangle and as usual (already they have a usual), he lets her lead, but surprises her here and there, with a couple of fingers slipping inside her, his thumb finding the right amount of pressure to put on her clit.

It doesn't take Jordan long to push her over the edge, and Lydia comes with a muffled groan. She clings to him, legs refusing to support her as the pleasure takes control of her fine motor skills. As the chemicals flood her brain, she thinks,  _This can't be the last time._ All before it goes white.

"Hey, hey," Jordan says quickly, keeping her up as well as he can with sluggish arms. "Don't you pass out on me." Once she's secured, back on her feet, he tilts her head up with a gentle finger. "Kinda want to make the most of what time we have and I need you awake.” He brushes his lips on hers, changes his mind and kisses her fully. Might as well, while he can.

Lydia manages to fist a hand in his hair and kiss back, holding on to him for dear life. _I don't want this to end._ "Remind me--" She trails off, caught in a whirl of tongue and lips. "To give you..." Fuck, he's a good kisser. "My number."

"Yes, yeah, sure," Jordan mumbles, never straying far away from her mouth, her skin.

Water pounds on them, washes away the remnants of their session. After a while it also cleans the sleep and fantasy and brings some notion of reality back into Jordan's mind.

_Her number? What for? You're deployed again in 12 days._

_She fits like the missing puzzle piece in my arms. That's why._

Maybe fantasy still has a hold on him.

 

"We should probably get out of the shower," Lydia murmurs after a while. "Don't want to waste too much water." Also she's getting cold. So there's that.

"As you wish," Jordan says with a tiny grin, reaching around her to turn the water off. It's drafty the second he does so, he fumbles for the rack of bath towels. Thankfully they're huge, thick and soft beyond belief.

"There," he says, wrapping one around Lydia's frame until just her face is peeking out. He secures one around his waist and smiles, broadly. "Adorable. Unexpectedly adorable."

Lydia pouts. "Am not," she whines, consciously over-the-top and childish. "I am a strong, independent woman."

"Yes." He takes a step back, tugging at the bunched towel under her chin to bring her along."And a geek." He grins, takes another step. She's so cute, her full lips still in a firm pout. He can't stop smiling. "And a boss, " he continues. "And a goddess. And a fantastic lover."

They're back in the bedroom, he stops near the bed and the bags. "And so adorable." He kisses her. "You're the whole package." And isn't that the scariest, worst thing to say.

"It's about time  _somebody_  realized this,” she scoffs. _Play it cool, play it off_. "I have a few people you could call who would tell you otherwise."

"Now why would I want to do that?" he says with false joy, moving away to rummage in his bag for fresh clothes. _Because you need to get your head out of your ass. This was a hook-up, nothing more._ _It can't be more._

"To champion my cause, of course." Lydia unzips her carry on and thanks her lucky star that she remembered to pack her back-up outfit. Bra, panties, leggings, and sweater dress, all there neatly underneath her laptop. "I am so glad my mother always told me to pack clothes in my carry-on," she says aloud as she dresses. "Everything else was checked."

"I’m solving the problem at the source," Jordan replies, lifting his bag to put it on the bed. "They teach you to travel light, a lot of ground to cover with your stuff on your shoulders..." A few essentials are all he carries now, everywhere. He gets dressed quickly, efficiently, in well-worn jeans and a warm Henley. Then there's nothing left to do but to pick up his discarded clothes from the night before, put them in his bag and... It's like nothing happened.

"What time is your flight?" he asks. There's the hint of a desperate edge to his voice.

Lydia buttons her coat briskly and pulls on her boots. "I fly out at noon. It's--" She checks the time on her phone. "Almost ten now. Would--" _Are you seriously doing this? Just say goodbye and move on._ "Would you like to join me for breakfast at that diner?"

Jordan doesn't even think about it, nods and puts on his coat in a flash.Her wish, his command. Except she doesn't ask him to kiss her once they're out of the room but he does so anyway, gives her a long thorough kiss, one arm looped around her waist.

Jordan's kiss leaves her breathless. _Don't let this one go._ Lydia takes his hand on the way to the elevator, smiling goofily.

 

After checking out, they hail a cab, luck out by having one just turning the corner as they do so, and head for the diner. Jordan can't find it in him to let go of her hand, soft and warm in his, or to wipe his smile from his face 

"You two are precious," the middle-aged driver says. "Young people in love, it's adorable," she adds.

"Adorable," Jordan echoes, glancing at Lydia with what he hopes is a playful enough look. _Young people in love. Is that what we are? Nonsense._

Lydia smiles breezily back, shoving the thought to the back of her mind. They arrive at the diner before they know it, and Lydia lets Jordan open the door.

"Thank you, kind sir."

"Milady." He’s keeping it cheeky. Breezy. The comment in the car was just random, after all.

This time around they get a broody teen as their waiter, who dumps menus on their table and forgets the water for Jordan. At least the coffee is nice and brought in a timely manner.

"So..." Jordan says slowly, perusing the options. "Eggs Benedict look good." He deflates at once. "Sorry. This is weird." He glances at her. "I... It's almost the end, you know, and it doesn't feel that way at the same time."

Lydia resists the urge to chew on her lip in thought. It's a terrible habit she's working to break. "I know what you mean." She sips her water, wheels turning in her mind. "You're only stateside for one more week, right? When will your tour be over?"

"Four months? I think. It all depends on whether they pull the troops according to schedule or not. And bomb squads are still needed on the ground these days, unfortunately." He doesn't want to ask her why she's asking. He really doesn't. It's foolish, and dangerous, to wonder.

But he never clicked with someone so fast, and he's a man of instinctual decisions. "Thinking of...?" He breathes in, puts the menu away. "You think we should..."

"Stay in contact." Lydia finishes for him. "Get to know each other. See what happens."

He thinks it over. Thinks about the danger he faces every day, the very reason he didn't enlist while he was with Kendra, even if he was thinking about it. You don't do that, you don’t want to make a widow. He thinks about the distance, the strain it puts on every kind of relationship. Family, friends, they all felt the repercussions of it. He thinks about the uncertainty of his future, no job or home waiting for him once he's been discharged.

Then he thinks he could settle anywhere. Like near her university. And he imagines what it'd be like, to Skype with her once in a while. To have her greet him at the airport when he comes back. He smiles. "I...I'd like that."

"Here, let me just..." Lydia fishes a business card and a pen out of her purse. She writes her Skype username and her personal email on the back of it and hands it to him. "That's my cell, my work email, everything you could need."

"Thank you," Jordan says. He looks down at the card, the neat handwriting. "Covering all bases," he adds with a smile. The card goes in his wallet, in a protected pocket. Safe.

They're briefly interrupted by the waiter, who takes their order with indifference.

"Skype will probably be best," Jordan says once he's gone. "Phone reception is spotty over there."

"I thought so, but I just wanted to make sure you could reach me." Lydia sips her coffee to give her hands something to do. "If I wrote you letters, how would I get them to you?"

He flips over his place mat and steals her pen. “Just send anything to the base, they know where I am or will be and they forward everything,” he says, scribbling away. “Like this.”

With a flick of the wrist he turns the paper around to show her. “Just name, regiment number, state and zip code. More details than that and it gets lost, apparently.” He pushes it forward and frowns. “No business card from me, sorry, but you can copy it somewhere, or something.”

He swirls the pen between his fingers for a second before giving it back. His hand stays on hers. “And it takes a long time for anything to get there, so... don’t worry if the reply takes a while to get to you, okay?”

"I'll do my best." Lydia threads her fingers through this. "You know, I'm starting to think the weather delay was the Universe trying to get my attention."

“Fate, or something like it? I didn’t think you believed in that.” He brings their joined hand to his lips for a very brief kiss. “But I’m glad you do.” It’s not just him then.

"I can't wait to truly get to know you, Jordan." Lydia smiles softly, shushing the worrying and the concern. "I have a feeling it'll be quite an adventure."

"It won't be...traditional, that's for sure." _Or easy, for her mostly._ "I look forward to... Having another reason to come back." 

"I'm honored, fair knight." Lydia's smile is soft, fond. "I should give you a token of my good will to carry into battle."

His smile falters but doesn’t fade entirely.  “No need, memories will do." He’s used to having little else to carry him through. “Maybe you could give me a kiss goodbye, just in case they’re not enough.” And that inevitable separation, so close on the horizon, makes his lips fall downward. This will suck.

"Oh, I plan on it." Lydia bumps his foot with hers. "And it's too late. I already tucked my token into your bag."

“How did you…”  Jordan searches her face for an answer until it dawns on him, just as the waiter comes around with their plates. “Fuck you gave me your panties didn’t you?” he whispers loudly.

A breakfast saved at that very last second and two flustered guys ensue. Well the mood is lightened, that’s for sure.

"Oh, sweetie, here let me help you." Lydia helps the waiter get the food on the table and winks at him. "Thank you so much."

"N-no problem, ma'am."

Lydia waits for him to scuttle off before saying, "to quote the natives, bless his heart. And yes, I did. They're in the outer pocket of your bag." Lydia runs the toe of her boot up his leg. "I figured you wouldn't mind a little present."

"No, I certainly don't," Jordan croaks out after a much needed few sips of his coffee. A small cough and he's pretty much back to being himself, spreading his legs out for her foot. "I hate doing laundry, I can never have too many pairs of underwear."

Lydia's eyes glaze over as the mental image of Jordan in her lacy black panties swims before her eyes. It's... incredibly alluring. She snaps back into focus, her foot trailing up and down his calf.

"You'll have to try them on for me some time," she purrs, lustful gaze locked on him shamelessly 

"Next time," he says, breathing quickening. Okay he was mostly kidding but her expression says it all and... Why not? She seems to make him want to try a lot he things he swore off. Attachment while being deployed being the most obvious one.

Lydia's stomach rumbles, and hunger takes the reins for a moment. But while she eats her mind keeps on churning thoughts. _He's a soldier. He's on a fucking_ bomb squad.  _He could be blown to bits in seconds and you're considering a future with this man?_

There are no coincidences. They were brought together for a reason. Besides, she's already waiting for a naval officer, her best friend, to come home. What's a lieutenant?

"This is really good," Lydia says quietly, still working on her breakfast.

"Yeah it is," Jordan says, mouth full of hollandaise. "Good recommendation." He plays around with the pieces of potatoes left in his plate, smiles here and there at Lydia, in between glancing at the clock behind the counter. Time's ticking and he dreads every second that passes.

_You shouldn't. You met her 12 hours ago, you're not even sure when you'll be back. It shouldn't go beyond today._

But he wants it to, she does as well. He takes risks every day in his professional life, maybe it's time he starts doing it in his personal life.

"We're crazy, right?" he says after a long silence.

"Absolutely insane." The words tumble out of Lydia's mouth before she can stop them. "Completely and totally crazy." She risks a smile in his direction. "But it could be worth it. And we're crazy together, yeah?"

Jordan nods and smiles back, cautiously. "Crazy good together too, if last night is any indication.Worth seeing if we can be even better."

Lydia pokes at her pancakes. "Worth seeing." She kicks him gently under the table. "Do your best not to get blown up, deal?"

"Ow." He pokes at her foot. "Don't go and find yourself a genius physicist who moonlights as an underwear model while I'm gone and we have a deal."

"Trust me, most of the men at MIT who could keep up with me are misogynist assholes." Lydia giggles, kicking back. "You definitely have a deal."

"We have a deal," he confirms, continuing the foot war under the table. It's... kind of exhilarating.

The now-shy waiter slips by to put the bill next to their mostly empty plates. It makes Jordan pause, really look at the clock. Almost 11. Fuck.

Lydia pays the bill before Jordan can even reach for his wallet, leaving a generous tip for the flustered waiter. "We should probably head to the airport," she says briskly. "I don't want to be late for my late flight."

"Yeah, of course..." Jordan murmurs. He reclaims her hand the second they're up, unashamedly.

 

It's somewhat harder to get a cab this time, maybe because he isn't that motivated to find one.

_If she misses this flight you get to keep her for a while longer._

His own flight to Spokane isn't until 4.

_No. You knew this had a deadline. Deal with it. Plus she isn't going to be gone forever._

_Four months at least, forever, same difference._

 

They finally find a cab and head to the airport. It's a quiet, tense ride, and Lydia can't make herself let go of him. _This is a terrible idea, but it could be amazing in the long run._ _  
_

Jordan never realized how ugly and depressing an airport can be. He's felt excitement there, whenever he was going home, or the first time he went overseas (that time was mostly nervousness but excitement too). He's felt dread, the first time his ticket said "Afghanistan". But he's never felt so grim, standing on the sidewalk outside the airport, not when he was headed to his brother's place.

"I think Ian will hate having me over this time." He holds on to Lydia's hand. "I can already tell I'll be... Down, to say the least."

"Hey, no.... don't be, on my behalf." Lydia squeezes his hand, making him look in his eyes. "I want you to have the merriest fucking Christmas ever, okay? Holly, Jolly, all that jazz. Enjoy your time with your brother while you're here. Email me, or whatever, if you can. But love him while you're home."

"I will, of course I will," Jordan sighs. he loses track of his thoughts for a second, looking deep into her eyes to commit their spark to memory. "But I'll... I'll be a little moody, can't be helped." He smiles, a sad one that doesn't reach his eyes. "It's not every day I say goodbye to a girl like you, even if it's just for a while."

The girl of his dreams, pretty much. He'll miss her, he knows it. The next couple days will be hard.

He shrugs. "He'll understand. Hell, he'll even make fun of me for it, that'll keep him happy."

Lydia catches a glimpse of the vulnerable little boy tucked away inside the man in front of her for just the briefest moment. She pulls him closer and wraps her arms around his waist in the tightest hug she can manage. "I wish the timing had turned out differently," she murmurs into his chest, "But I'm glad we got what we did."

Jordan rests his chin on the top of her head, sighing. "Yeah, me too."

All around them taxis are letting out more people, a few families, several couples in a similar embrace as theirs. It makes him hold on to her for a little while longer. _There will be a next time. Focus on that._ It's such a small comfort, but it's enough. "I think you should go, now," he says, slowly unwinding his arms. "before I can't let you do it."

"That's probably for the best." Lydia leans up for one more kiss. "Be safe. Stay in touch when you can. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas. Have fun in school, if that's possible." One hand buried in her hair, the other gently cupping her cheek, he kisses like it's the last time, the last time ever that is. Just in case. She escapes his arms too soon and he finds himself empty, inside and out.

 

Lydia doesn't say goodbye. She can't bring herself to form the words. All she does is whisper one more 'be safe' as she clicks into the airport, refusing to look back at the man she may never see again 

"You okay, honey?" The TSA agent looks worried. "Something wrong?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Lydia barely manages to get the words out.

The woman doesn't look convinced, but she waves her on through to the scanner. 

It isn't until Lydia is through security and on the way to her gate that it hits her. She may never see him again. This could have been their first and last night together. "Well, Martin, you wanted a one night stand.”

…

"Excuse me? Excuse me do you  _mind_?"

Jordan is shoved out of the doorway by an overloaded mother and her swarm of kids

"Some of us have a plane to catch, you know?" she throws over her shoulder, maneuvering everyone inside the airport.

"Yeah," he replies, to no one, his voice too low.

Yeah, a plane to catch. She had one too. And now he's alone and he has hours to kill until his own flight and he feels all of this way too strongly. He sighs, takes a few steps while raking his fingers through his hair. _It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this, not with someone like her. Just some fun while being stranded._

_Yeah well it did happen, and with this girl who's everything you could ever want and now you're fucked. You're fucked, and because of that you're making her wait. You couldn't put your high school sweetheart through it but her, you're willing to risk it._

He stops, picks his bag back up  and swings it over his shoulder.

_No_ , he thinks, taking a steadying breath. _I'll let her call. Her wish, my command. If she can't wait or doesn't want to, I won't... It'll be her choice._

His entire face dims under the glacial thought. But he powers through, like a soldier, and heads inside, in the direction of the lounge. Again.

…

_Allison is in the armed forces and you still love her. Any maneuver could be her last, but you still believe she'll come home. You aren't a stranger to the lifestyle._

Lydia paces until she gets on the plane. Then she can't pace, so she taps her toe until she wants to kill herself.

_You've never felt like that with anyone else. What if he's the one for you?_

There is some delay getting off the ground, and Lydia manages one text before she has to turn her phone off.

**To Stiles: I met a soldier. I think he may be the one. Have I lost it?**

She turns her phone off and tucks it into her purse before the attendant sees her.

The woman in the seat beside her lays a hand over her twitching fingers. "Deep breath, honey. You won't be any good to whoever they are if you pass out in a plane." She smiles gently. "Boy?"

Lydia huffs out a chuckle. "You could say that. A soldier."

"I won't talk your ear off, but think this through-- you will always wonder what would have happened. Trust your gut." The woman sits back and pulls out her book, leaving Lydia to her inner tumult.

Finally, she pulls out her journal and tears out a page. _My darling knight..._

…

The cheesy Christmas movie playing on the TV holds no interest for Jordan. If anything the romance between the demanding boss and his gentle assistant annoys him greatly.A genderbent version of what could have been for him. No, dicking around on his phone, slumped in an armchair, that's much better than watching this. All he finds are pointless fluff stories on the news sites. He keeps on scrolling.

_She's going to opt out. It's the wisest thing to do. She has so much going on for her, what does she have to gain by waiting around for a deployed soldier with no plans, no future besides the army?_

Facebook is worse, wishes and love spread everywhere on his feed. He closes it.

_No. Forget it. Treasure the memory, whatever but... It's just the afterglow, something like that. She's gonna wake up tomorrow, back in her real life, and she'll realize... It wasn't that magical or meaningful, there are too many downsides, it just won't work._

He frowns, blinks away a sudden rush of emotion he didn't see coming. It might all be true but for him... She was perfect. They were perfect together. Tomorrow, next week, four months from now, he'll still think so.

The hours trickle down, slow and painful, and no distraction drowns out his thoughts. When he boards his plane, even later than announced, he's got a headache and a grim resolve instead of holiday cheer.

…

It takes Lydia the entirety of her plane ride to get her mental ducks into a proverbial row. She lists the pros, the cons, everything she can think of to effect her decision on that piece of paper, tucking notes into corners and scrawling out of order in ways she'd never imagine any other time.

When she lands in San Francisco, the answer is clear. She wants this. Fuck the haters and all the doubts, she wants him. Will it be easy? No, but when was it ever? Lydia Martin gets what she wants, and she wants Jordan Parrish. She pulls her phone out and turns it on once they're cleared to do so. A text comes through immediately.

**From Stiles:  You're Lydia Fucking Martin. You don't lose it-- you find it.**

And she did.

Lydia waits until she's home and in her room to make the call, leaving a voicemail.

_Parrish. Leave a message. BEEP._

"Hey, it's um... it's me. Lydia, from the Dallas airport. I, um... I just wanted to say-- I'm in. Come hell or high water, I'm in."

…

"The nomad!" Ian exclaims, arms open wide for Jordan to jump in.

Seeing his brother, and Marcus holding up an obnoxious banner that says  _G.I Jordan has landed at last!_  in bright red glitter, pries a smile out of Jordan.

"Hey bro, bro-in-law," he says softly, dumping his bag on the floor to hug them both tightly. It feels good, more than he expected. _You might just get over it, eventually._

"Not yet, Ian has yet to make an honest man out of me," Marcus says, pulling a unconvincing serious face. "Taking his sweet time doing so," he complains. "I think you'll settle down before us." He grabs Jordan's bag, waving off his protest. "Let me carry this, you two chat or something. Oh and Ian, I'm driving. You obviously can't handle the highway."

He takes off with long strides, leaving the Parrish boys behind.

"Don't mind him, he's a little miffed because he has to leave in two days for LA and will miss our New Year's kiss, now everything is a drama. Whatever," he swings his arm around Jordan's shoulders, "we'll hang out and have fun anyway. Might be hard, according to your face."

Jordan fights to keep a smile on his face. "Sorry. I'm happy to be here, really it's just..." He sighs. "A girl. In Dallas."

"Huh. Worth mentioning, so she must be special."

"Perfect's more like it."

"You're gonna see her again? She knows about your... situation?"

"She does. And I want to, man you have no idea how amazing she is but..."

"It's hard and she might not want to get involved with an army boy."

Ian always got it. Jordan nods and his brother hugs him, awkwardly with just one arm.

"It's Christmas little bro, the time for miracles. You never know."

"Yeah, yeah," Jordan replies without an ounce of enthusiasm. His plane ride was short but still long enough to kill all hope he had on the matter.

Service kicks back on his cellphone and the ping of his voicemail makes him step away from his brother to retrieve the device from his back pocket.

Lydia's number, already memorized, is on the screen. He braces himself for the inevitable "I'm sorry, pre-Dear John message". Instead he hears a soft voice that says the exact opposite, with impossible conviction.

This time he doesn't have to fake it, his grin almost splits his face and Ian, as expected, laughs out loud at the sight.

…

**June**

...

"God, Lydia, think you have enough glitter on that thing?" Stiles sneezes, causing a glitter cloud to whirl around the kitchen table. "They'll be able to see that thing from space!"

"Just wait until you see the sign his brother made. It's even worse than this one." Lydia adds the finishing touches. "You're staying with Derek tonight, right? You know I love having you for a housemate over the summer, but..."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Don't worry, the place will be all yours for his homecoming." He narrows his eyes at the poster. "Your knight? Really?"

"It's a thing. Our thing."

 

It's been six months since Dallas. Five and a half months since Jordan went back. And a month and a half since he was supposed to be home.

Lydia doesn't care anymore that he's late. She's just glad he's coming home at all.

They kept up semi-regular communication, mostly letters. A Skype call when they could manage it. Bit by bit, Lydia got to know the amazing man under the beautiful face.

She can't wait to have him in her arms again. 

To have him  _home._

…

He takes his time, folding t-shirts with the precision he's learned over the years and putting them in his suitcase. Pants, socks, his tablet go in next, then the panties are tucked away in the pocket on the side. He zips it closed with a private grin.

All that's left to pack are a few important papers in their large official envelope, and the sizable bundle of letters held together by several rubber bands. (He couldn't find anything romantic like a satin ribbon.) They're pretty worn, the sand and wind and multiple readings turned a few of them into ancient manuscripts by the looks of it. His comfort over the last months, his most prized possession. They are packed with the utmost care, secured between the piles of clothes, and he stands idle afterwards, running the tip of his fingers over the ragged edges.

"You coming Parrish? Plane's not gonna wait for us you know."

Actually it will, military transports are completely anal about having all their passengers on board, but yeah, he's coming. He closes his suitcase, grabs his bag and turns towards Robinson. "Coming," he confirms. He wouldn't miss this flight for the world.

The small goodbye ceremony from the night before, that turned into quite the party once the officials were gone, is a lingering memory in his bones and mind. It's a good thing, makes him distracted and sleepy and unaware of most of the ride.

Now that it's all over, that he's headed back, there is no more adrenaline to keep him alert and stressed. He sleeps soundly the first half of the trip, slumps through the layover with Robinson poking his face every 15 minutes to keep him conscious. The second part is spent in a mildly awake state, with the excitement seeping in and rousing him.

His queen. Soon she won't be just words on a page, a voice over the internet. He'll kiss full lips, thread his fingers through red curls... ("Strawberry blonde, actually.")

LAX is on the horizon. Just one last connecting flight to San Francisco and he'll be home.

…

"I still don't understand why you don't just live with him. You're practically married." Lydia tosses a pillow at Stiles, and he fluffs it dutifully. "You shouldn't have to stay here."

Stiles sets the pillow in place and puts the second into its case. "He has trust issues, and space issues, and issues issues. It's good for us to be able to spend time apart, even if it isn't often. Though I am planning on spending the weekend, so you and your man have the place to yourself."

"You're a doll."

Once she and Stiles get the bed made (the man has an eye for it), Lydia spritzes the pillows with her perfume. She prefers the smell to fabric softener any day.

"Okay, I'm gonna head out. Give my regards to Parrish, and warn him that he will get the gauntlet at Sunday dinner." Stiles shoulders his bag. "Have fun, Lyds. Be safe."

He gets the door closed before the spatula hits him, and it falls to the ground with a thud.

It's an hour before Jordan is supposed to arrive, and half an hour before Lydia can go to the airport without looking weird. She straightens and re-straightens the living room, making sure all of Stiles' shit is tucked in the proper places. Jordan may know she has a roommate, but he doesn't have to see the evidence of it. 

The lasagna is ready to go into the oven the moment they need it, and the fridge is stocked for a cozy weekend home.

Home. Lydia likes the sound of that.

_What if this isn't the same? What if it isn't as easy as you want it to be?_

_I love him. If I could do this for six months, a weekend together will be bliss._

She straightens the office and tucks her stationery away. She won't need it for a while now. Jordan is home. Eventually, she grabs her purse and his sign and heads for the airport. It's time to collect her knight.

…

"That's it then, back on civilian transport..." Robinson says. He grins and bumps Jordan with his bag. "I'm going to walk around for a bit. Think I can have the same luck as you had last time? It's a three hours wait until the flight to Phoenix."

Jordan rolls his eyes and grabs his suitcase . "You have a wife and a kid waiting for you, you shouldn't joke about things like this."

"Maybe. But I'm always joking, what's the harm with a little flirtin'-flirtin'? It's not like I'll go at it your way and end up with  _my sun and stars queen goddess_  or something. Already got that at home. Just gonna smile at the ladies."

"Fine..." Jordan sighs. He looks up at the board. "Well I don't have time to flirt,"  _don't want to either_ , "I have to get to my gate. Let's do this."

A complicated handshake/hug combo later, they slap each other on the back. "Take care man, and of that tiny queen too."

"Same for you."

Different directions, one last smile before Jordan turns the corner.  _Gonna miss him_.

At first he walks, quickly ups it to jogging, despite the heavy load he's carrying. He's first in line to check his luggage and to board, for once unashamed of the preferential treatment given to soldiers, and sits back in his seat with a sigh.

Just an hour-something-long flight left. It's surreal, and he can't wait to have it just be  _real_.

It should be the longest hour of his life, but it passes in the blink of an eye.

…

Lydia parks herself on a bench where she'll be sure to see Jordan coming out, sign propped beside her. She catches the attention of several passersby, causing several people to smile and congratulate her. One asshat makes some comment about the military, but Lydia shuts it down in seconds.

"You are entitled to your own opinion, but I am the  _wrong person_  to go springing it on." She pulls herself to her full five feet seven inches (thank you, heels) and stares him in the eye. "I'd suggest you go crawling back to the internet cave you came from before you get a Jimmy Choo shoved so far up your colon you  _taste it._ "

The troll scuttles off, truly terrified at the threat coming from such a small woman.

Lydia sits back down and straightens her dress. He'll think twice before he spouts rhetoric next time.

…

One part takes forever, the taxiing. The airport is quite spread out and the plane goes at a snail's pace, rolling towards the terminal one inch per second, apparently.No messages on Jordan's phone, that he's looking at discreetly, and his free hand taps on his thigh, a random beat that doesn't calm him down.

_Maybe she won't be there. Maybe it just got real to her and she backed out, realized she only liked the romantic aspect of a relationship lived at a distance._

_Maybe she'll be there and won't like your surprise._

When the plane finally,  _finally_  stops, he's worked himself up to a surprising high level of panic for a guy used to intense situations and he pulls his bag from the overhead compartment with sweaty hands.

_Here goes nothing_ , he thinks. He lets most of the passengers go before him, still trying to even out his breathing, and walks out of the plane slowly, Only a few steps to the terminal door.

…

People start coming out, and Lydia stands to scan the crowd.

_What if he doesn't want you here after all?_

_What if it was all in your head?_

She shakes down the doubt, only letting the excitement through.

"Come on, come on."

…

It's a mess of people hugging, screaming, jumping around. A bunch of teenage girls are the worst, squealing and refusing to move from the entrance, even though they get a couple of dark looks and shoves. Oblivious teens. Jordan readjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder, scans the area as much as he can, looks between the groups and couples.

_She's not here._

Cold dread flows down his spine.

_Fuck she's not here._

He waits a couple of seconds, the girls move to the left, chattering excitedly, and relief chases every dark thought away.

_She's here_. More beautiful than ever, even with the worried expression she's sporting.

_She's here._

"Lydia!" It's a weak call, his throat is tight, but it's enough to get her attention.

 

"Jordan!" 

Forgetting all sense of propriety and decorum and all that bullshit her grandmother trained into her, Lydia goes flying toward him and throws herself into his arms.

It's a good thing he has impeccable reflexes, he doesn't even wobble at the sudden attack, scoops her up in his arms without missing a beat and holds her high and tight.

"Oh my God you're here, you're really here, I was..." He shakes his head, buries his face in her hair. No more doubts. She's here.

Lydia clings to him, a hand going to run through bristly hair or down his back, still not entirely convinced that he's  _real._ "You're home," she rasps out, voice thick with tears. "You're home."

She pulls back just enough to see his face. Six months have aged him more than she thought possible, but he's still as beautiful as ever. He's still her knight. "You're home."

_Home_. He didn't dare to hope for such a welcome. "Back home, back to you," he whispers. His arms release her gently, until her feet can touch the ground again. Looking at her radiant face, slightly dimmed by the tears in her eyes, he gets choked up all over again. "Don't you cry, my queen," he says, his thumb stopping a stray tear before it rolls down her cheek. "I promised to come back, and I have." _And I'm amazed you waited for me._

"Happy tears, I promise." Lydia fists a hand in his shirt and pulls him down so she can kiss him, gently at first. Just... just to prove to herself that he's real. "I'm just so glad to have you home."

"I'm so happy to be here myself, you have no idea."

Too many lonely nights, especially towards the end of his tour. Too quiet, left with too much time to think about that night in Dallas, to read her letters over and over, to miss her. That was too brief a kiss, after so long.

"Come here," he says, his hand on her hip, showing his meaning. This time their lips meet for a toe-curling kiss, the kind he pours his entire heart in, nibbling on her plump bottom lip with fervor. "Fuck I missed you, so much it's crazy..." he sighs, pulling away for a breath.

_He's so fucking perfect._ "I missed you, but I don't have to anymore." Lydia wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him with everything she has.

"No, you won't," he reassures her, and gives back as much as she gives.

They're lost in their embrace, kissing without care, until people start giggling around them and the airline attendant coughs to get their attention. "We will need to board the next flight, maybe you could collect his luggage and continue this sweet reunion at home?"

Lydia grins. "Oh, trust me, sweetie, I plan on it."

The attendant looks flustered, but content that they will move along.

"Let's get you home, Jordan." Lydia grabs her sign and links her arm through his. "I have plans for you."

Jordan grins like a kid and keeps her close as they walk towards the carousel. "Well my schedule is empty, I'm ready for anything you have for me." His battered suitcase rolls in front of him and he snatches it with one hand. He's not letting go of her that soon. "I have a surprise or two for you in there," he says with a smile. "I hope you'll like them." Both are a gamble, in a way, but he has hope.

"You're all I could ask for. Anything else is icing." Lydia kisses his cheek. “Let's go wait for the shuttle, I had to park way out in Neverland."

 

They walk to the shuttle arm-in-arm, and wait with half of San Fran to get on. By the time they make it in, there's only one seat left. "Looks like we'll have to share." Lydia pushes Jordan to the seat and perches on his lap.

"The queen does deserve the highest throne," he shrugs. Suitcase stored under the seat, he wraps an arm around her waist for balance, the other keeping his bag from going everywhere. "Gives me a great view too," he smirks. He's got her glorious breasts a mere inch from his face, perfectly showcased by her dress. "Beautiful, beautiful view. 

Lydia giggles. "I thought you'd like this dress. It's one of my favorites." Flattering and comfortable all at the same time. Who knew? She shifts a little with the motion of the bus, but Jordan has her. 

"It looks great on you." He nuzzles her neck, the cramped space making it easy and discreet. "It'll look even better off of you." With her almost grinding on his lap, his mind is going to more basic instincts. And he missed her, in every way.

A shiver goes down her spine. They cannot get home soon enough. "I can't wait to test the theory," she murmurs, holding him tightly. "We just have to get home, first."

Bumps and stops and pauses eventually come to an end and to their own stop, and save Jordan's sanity and dignity. His pants are getting tight. "Let's go, let's go..." he mumbles, picking up everything and marching out. Once outside he feels a little better and stops. "I don't know what your car looks like," he says, sheepish. "You go ahead."

_Calm down, big boy._

Lydia takes his hand without a second thought and leads him to her Prius. "Pretentious, I know, but I honestly do have it for the gas mileage," she explains, popping the trunk for his bag.

"It's fine," Jordan replies, dumping suitcase and bag in the trunk. It fits, barely, but it does. "I won't judge you for picking an environmentally-friendly car." She unlocks the doors and he settles in. "Plus it's small and cute, so it's very... You."

"Thank you." Lydia smiles over at him, finding some sense of rightness in having him in her car. "Now, let's get home."

 

Traffic around the airport is batshit crazy, and she curses quietly under her breath for a solid twenty minutes until they're out of the worst of it 

"Potty mouth," Jordan says with a chuckle. He leans forward and plays with the banner rolled up at his feet. "That was a really nice touch, by the way, thank you. Loved it."

He stares at his hand, now covered in sparkling glitter. Rubbing at it with his other hand only spreads it further, showers his pants with shiny particles and he sighs. "Okay that's never coming off." Impulsively he cups Lydia's cheek and kisses her. "There." Half her face is now glittery. "It's gonna get on you anyway, I'm starting early."

"My house is already drenched in the stuff. A little more won't kill me." Lydia finally  _(finally)_  pulls onto her street. "We're about five minutes from home. Hopefully traffic won't get worse from here. I fucking hate airport traffic."

"Me too. Can't wait to be...home with you," Jordan says slowly. He loves saying that word, _home_. Especially when it involves her.

He links their hands, marvels at how well her tiny hand is encompassed in his. "Finally be with you without a time constraint."

"I completely agree." They finally get to Lydia's place-- one in a street full of colorful townhouses, a sunny yellow. "This is me."

"Cute. Really nice." He gets his stuff out of the trunk, letting her carry the banner (enough glitter for him for now) and pauses to take a real look at the house. "It looks cozy and bright," he comments. _I could see myself living there._

_Getting ahead of yourself._

_Since when do we do things at a normal pace?_

"That's why I picked it. The rent is ridiculous, but I make enough working summers to afford it. Back in Boston I live with a friend of mine." Danny still loves her, even if Jackson doesn't. "Let's get you inside."

 

She finds her keys and opens the door, stepping aside for Jordan to go in.

"Thank you." He feels strangely comfortable the second he steps inside, calm and relaxed. He drops his bag and suitcase next to the console in the hallway, kicks off his shoes, as if he's been here hundreds of times. The whole place smells of citrus and home. "Home," he says with a sigh.

Lydia's purse goes on the console, her shoes beside Jordan's in the hall. "Home," she repeats, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You're home."

"The home of glitter," Jordan chuckles, turning around in her arms to cup her face with both his hands, "and you. All I could ever want."He kisses her, a kiss meant to be gentle and sweet but it's been too long and she tastes so good... It quickly escalates into a devouring one, and he has her backed against the wall within seconds 

"I missed you, it's so great to have you in my arms again, fuck..." He pants against her lips, drags his own down her neck, smears glitter everywhere with his roaming hands.

"I love you." It slips out of his mouth, he can't help it.

Lydia whimpers, tilting her head to give him room. "I love you too," she gasps out, before her brain catches up with her mouth. "I love you so much."

_Thank God and the heavens._ "I..." He goes back up her neck, bites gently on her earlobe. "I wanted to write it in every letter," he confesses. Going down, his tongue explores every inch, the dip of her collarbone, kisses her shoulder. The strap of her dress is in the way, he has no qualms sliding it down. "With each one of them I had to stop myself from writing it at the end," he whispers. " _All my love, your knight_. That's how I wanted to sign them."

"You should have. I love you too." Lydia runs her fingers through reg-short hair, holding him close. "I didn't realize I was falling until I was already there, but I do."

Jordan peppers kisses across the top of her breasts, working the dress out of the way as he goes. "Waiting a second to hear you saying it back was hard enough, I can't imagine waiting a week or two if I had said it in a letter." He pulls away to kiss her. "And also I get to make love to you, not just say it or write it," he says.

Her dress off the shoulder, her hair a bit mussed, the way she looks at him. Yeah, he needs to make love to her, now.

"My bedroom is up the stairs." Lydia pushes him back so she can hook a finger through his belt loop and pull him in the right direction. "I want to be able to take my time. and wall sex isn't conducive to that." She unzips her dress on the way, letting it fall to the floor.

"Whoa," Jordan breathes out. Memory is one thing. Actually seeing Lydia in a beautiful strapless bra and panties lacy duo is another. "You're more beautiful than..." He shakes his head and steps up to her. "There are no comparative." He picks her up, kisses her soundly. "Nothing compares to you."

It takes only a few seconds for him to wrap her legs around his waist and walk upstairs. She guides him to her room in between kisses and he drops her on the bed, gently.

Lydia lays back on the pillows, hair fanning out behind her. "You should probably remove your clothes," she purrs, running her hands up and down her thighs. "I want to see you."

"Okay," He kisses one last time before pulling away and standing up, "but I can't make it as sexy as you do it."

No, he shakes off his shirt and undershirt in a hurry, gets his head briefly stuck in that last one as he pulls it off. He freezes, hands on his belt. He'd forgotten about his first surprise. He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his fly.

"There's this one thing that you might find sexy," he says with a tentative smile. "I... Well, you'll see."

Thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants, he slides them down slowly, revealing a pair of Brazilian, lacy dark red panties. "Couldn't fit into yours."

Holy mother of god.  _Holy mother of god._ A strangled noise escapes Lydia's throat and she slides down the bed to get closer. "You... I... Holy fuck." 

The lace is stretched obscenely over his cock, contrasting beautifully against his skin. Lydia pushes and pokes until he turns around and she can see the glory of his ass in all its lace-clad wonder. "Best. Idea. Ever," she finally manages to get out, turning him back around and pulling him down for a sloppy kiss.

Jordan breathes out a discreet sigh of relief and spreads over her, kissing back eagerly. "I wasn't sure... I mean they are comfortable but..." he chuckles. "You never know."

"Your kit's prettier though," he says, sliding his hand down her sides. He sits back on his heels to admire the view. He runs his fingers along the top of her bra. "Beautiful." One finger finds its way inside, graze her nipple under the material.

Lydia arches into his touch with a moan. She forgot how good he was at finding her weak spots. "Th-thank you. I like to invest in my undergarments."

"I'll be careful with them then." His hand moves to her back, granted access by her arching, and he unhooks the bra in one swift move. Deft fingers are a blessing in many situations. The bra is peeled off her delicately and he drops it on the nightstand. "You know, I think I prefer what's under them."

She's breathtaking. and he does need a second to catch his breath. He shifts on her lap. His panties, while comfortable, are getting tighter by the second. He takes the edge off by subtly, or not so subtly, grinding on her as he leans and drags his lips across her breasts. 

"F-fuck, Jordan." Lydia moans, brain sparking with pleasure as he grinds and kisses and hits all of the right buttons. She drags her nails down his back to grope his ass, guiding him to move against her. "So good to me."

"Trying my best, for you."He catches a (already) stiff nipple with his mouth, sucks on it gently, his tongue rolling around it with care. "Because I love you," he murmurs. He smiles to himself. God, does it feel  _awesome_  to say it.

"You love me," Lydia marvels. "And I love you. We're in love." The last word catches in her throat as his teeth graze her nipple, leaving only a croaking moan.

"We're in love," Jordan repeats, his breath warm over her skin. _She loves me. She loves me_. It's heady.

He takes ahold of her hips with shaky hands, grinding down a little more forcefully while still worshiping her breasts. They're glorious and deserve all the attention.

The low heat of arousal she's had going since she saw him is quickly building to a blaze. The sun filters through her curtains and sets Jordan alight. He looks like an angel worshiping her body, but he's something even better. He's her knight.

"C'mon, Jordan, please." She grinds against him in search of friction.

"Doing what I can over here," Jordan huffs, grinning. He pulls away for a second, ignores her whimper of protest. "You know what?" He gets off her, she whines again but not for long. Lying down, he takes ahold of her waist and pulls her on his lap.

"I recall you like to lead. " He caresses her sides, digs his fingers into her flesh to secure his grip. He bites back a groan when the instinctive rocking starts. "Have at it," he says through his teeth, already out of breath.

"I can do that." Lydia grabs onto his broad shoulders for balance and starts to rock with more purpose. Flesh meets lace meets lace meets flesh in the most awesome slow grind she's managed in years. Her eyelids start to flutter, and she forces them open so she can see the look on Jordan's face.

"Jesus Lydia..." Jordan's moan is barely a whisper, his swirling mind doesn't allow for anything louder or more elaborate. His hands slide up, getting reacquainted with the smooth skin on the way. It's softer than he remembers it. Her breasts still fill his hands nicely, a perfect fit actually, and he tweaks the nipples with his thumbs.

He's about to burst through his panties, but he doesn't want her to stop, ever.

Finally, Lydia snaps. She can't take the teasing any more."Panties off," she commands, rolling off of him long enough to shimmy out of her own and toss them to the floor. She grabs a condom from the bedside table and returns to her spot in his lap.

Jordan lifts up his ass, just enough to slide off his underwear down to his thighs, and with one hand holding on Lydia, finishes taking them off with a little show of acrobatics. "I'm down with this," He sits up to kiss her deeply, "so much." Elaborate foreplay will wait. They can always have a round two later. They have all the time in the world now.

Lydia rips the wrapper with her teeth and rolls the condom onto Jordan's cock, stroking him a few times to watch his eyes roll back in his head. "You good with me on top, my darling knight?" She purrs, playing with his balls just because she can. (Also he makes the prettiest noises when she does that.)

"Like you need to ask," he croaks out in disbelief, hips thrusting as if she was already riding him.He yanks her back over him, hands firmly gripping her ass. "My queen, I'm fine with having you in any possible way."

"Just making sure." Consent is important. Lydia lines him up and sinks down, taking him in centimeter by centimeter. "S'been a long-- fuck-- time." She shifts a little, lowering herself faster. The stretch feels  _exquisite._

"Definitely," Jordan says, head thrown back, eyes closed. She's going agonizingly slow, It's already more than he can take with them open.She dictates the rhythm, his hands stay in place as mere guides, helping her reach that perfect spot to grind on and helping him hit just the right place inside her with every other thrust. When he dares to look at her again, when he sees her skin glowing from the glitter and the sweat, her blissed-out face, it's almost enough to push him over the edge. But he holds on, a little bit longer, bites back his moans and only whispers "I love you," over and over again.

Lydia is mere moments from orgasm when she leans in to kiss the beautiful mess Jordan has become. The motion presses her clit against him even harder, and she shudders through the strength of her orgasm. She clings to him, moaning his name.

He holds her quivering body against his, lets her ride the aftershocks and kisses her through them. Only sheer will keeps him from following her right away. Once she's mostly recovered, he switched them around again, lifts her legs and hooks them on his shoulders. He's panting, dangerously on the verge of coming, but he can stave it off. He can. He threads his fingers through her sweaty curls, waits for her to open her eyes.

"Again?" he asks, breathless, as soon as she looks at him. He doesn't need to be specific, he simply starts fucking her with deep, meaningful thrusts.

This beautiful man just keeps blowing her mind. "Yes, again. S-so good to me," she pants out, mind still fuzzy from the first orgasm. "Love you so--  _fuck_ \-- so fucking much, Jordan." He's sweaty and the veins in his forehead are standing out and Lydia has never seen him look more wonderful.  _He's mine. He's mine, and I'm his._

She shakes as he fucks her toward a second orgasm, nailing her g-spot.

"Love you too," Jordan manages to get out, in between grunts and moans. It takes every ounce of his practiced self-control to not come. He has to slow down, roll his hips carefully to keep the thrusts deep but not too intense, working her up steadily so she gets there with him. After a minute or so he gives up, his head dropping into the mass of curls, and he fucks into her a couple more times before coming with a groan that's muffled by her hair. He grips the sheets in his fists, panting and inhaling her sweet perfume as he comes down from his mind-blowing orgasm.

Lydia slides a hand down to where they're joined so she can rub her clit the way she likes it. The heaving heap of Jordan on top of her just spurs her faster, and a second, smaller orgasm takes her not long after his.

It doesn't take long for the sexy position to get uncomfortable, so Lydia pokes at him until he pulls out and rolls over. "You're amazing," she hums, quickly disposing of the condom and curling up in his arms.

"You are," Jordan sighs, sneaking his arm under her to bring her closer. He smiles, lazy and blissful. "We are, together." He presses a kiss to her brow. "That was even better than I imagined, or remembered. And now we can have as many replays as we want."

"For as long as we want." Lydia nuzzles his neck and giggles. ”At least until my meeting with a new client on Tuesday." She sighs, content in Jordan's arms. "I'm really glad I had a weather delay in Dallas."

"Me too." He revels in the warm comfort of her embrace for a while, until his mind kicks into gear again.

_What now?_

"I... I was wondering," he says quietly, "where do you think of settling down, eventually? Would you move to Boston permanently or come back here after you degree?” He cringes mentally at what the question implies, but it's a little late, the words are out.

_He wants to plan a future with you._ "I'll probably come back west. I hate winter, and my research and study can take place anywhere." Lydia shrugs, tightening her grip on his waist. "I just need to find a university that will support me, and-- to be quite frank-- I should have my pick without any trouble. Besides, California is where my mom is, where Stiles and Derek and Scott are, where Allison will be when she's home."

He bites his lip, nodding. "Makes sense. So..." Jordan's hand traces patterns on her back, follows the dip of her spine slowly as he thinks. "If... If I was to look for a place of my own, it should be around here?"

"It depends." Lydia runs over several various options in her head for a moment. "See, I have at least two more years back in Boston to finish my PhD, and that's if I fast track it.. I'll spend summers and vacations here, working with my mom."

"I can do whichever," Jordan says.He pauses, kisses her hair and gets up. "I think it's time for my second surprise, actually, that will explain everything," he says. Looking around, he sees no sign of his bag. "Right, front door. Gimme a minute."

He slips on his pants and runs downstairs. The envelope is still secure on top of his clothes, he brings it back to the bedroom, climbing the steps two by two. He sits on the edge of the bed, looking at her with a gentle smile.

"Here," he says, handing her the first official letter he fishes out of the envelope. It reads  _Honorable Discharge_  at the top, in big bold letters. "I can settle anywhere now, for good."

Lydia scans the letter quickly, the words taking a moment to sink in.

_Honorable Discharge._

He's out.

"Oh my god, Jordan, that's fantastic!" She sets the letter out of the way and throws her arms around him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you!" 

Jordan lets out a nervous laughs, hugging her back just as tightly. "Thank you," he whispers. _Thank you for taking it this way._

"They wanted to keep me on, but..." he kisses her cheek through her hair. "I wanted to serve my country, and I did. Maybe in the past I could have considered a career in the army but now... I have a reason to stay in one place."

_You're his reason. Don't fuck this up._ Lydia rains kisses over his face, even pressing them to his eyelids. "You served your country, you saved lives, and I am  _so_  proud of you." She keeps kissing him, giggling. "And I'm so fucking happy to have you home safe for good."

"It's about time I plant some roots."

She was a good incentive to spring that plan into action. The idea of home has featured her for a while now, made it more real and appealing. Home isn't home without love. He lays her back down on the bed, follows right behind her.

"I have a couple more things to show you," he whispers. He reaches behind him for the envelope. "There's to be a ceremony in two weeks, in Washington, for the three regiments that were called back." He hands her the creamy white card. "It's kind of an award ceremony, I guess," he adds with a shy smile. "Commendation of Valor, that's me."

"And this is a letter from my general," he says, handing her yet another piece of paper. "A recommendation, so I can apply for a deputy position. So, you know, I won't be a kept man."

"I wouldn't mind keeping you, just so you know." Lydia looks over the papers in her hands, beaming with pride. Then it hits her. "Wait, deputy. Um... what are your thoughts on NorCal?"

Jordan can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers, the tiny crease between her brows. He has to kiss her right then and there. "I love it. You're gonna be close, Ian won't be that far either. The plan is to settle in that kind of place."

Boston PD was the back-up one.

"Stiles' father is the sheriff of Beacon County. I know for a fact that they have opening in the department." Lydia kisses him. "It wouldn't hurt to apply. I like Beacon Hills."

"Just like?” Jordan rolls over her and straddles her, pushes her hair out of her face lovingly before kissing her. "If I'm there, will you love it?"

"I'd love anywhere, so long as you were there." Lydia smiles up at him fondly. "I love you, my darling knight, no matter where we choose to build our little castle."

"It has to be worthy of my queen," Jordan says, leaning forward to kiss her again. Once there he can't seem to stop, spurred by love, her glorious expression and their plans falling into place.He stays close, kisses her lips, cheeks, return to her neck that still bears the marks of his mouth.

"I love you. it's..." He chuckles, kisses the tip of her nose. "It's kind of unbelievable, amazing. Us, this, it's... The best homecoming ever."

"And to think, it all started because of a layover."

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to MIT people, no harm was meant by Lydia's snide comment. We're sure you're all lovely people.
> 
> We're on tumblr [here](spookybibi.tumblr.com) and [here.](rileyrises.tumblr.com)


End file.
